The stiff new pants whispered as she followed Ian down from Pearl’s cabin. Stillness hung like heavy cloth, punctured occasionally by birds that sounded like squeaky wheels and beepers. When Ian and Nika scrambled into Maki’s waiting plane, the lake mirrored an upside-down forest on both sides of the inlet.
Maki checked a list and yelled “clear,” and they rumbled from the inlet, revving to a roar as the Beaver floatplane plowed the water.
“Got to find the sweet spot for takeoff!” Maki shouted back to Nika as the plane turned in a new direction, then revved up until the pontoons pulled free from the water and the plane lifted into the air.
Nika wasn’t as scared this time, and she relaxed against the seat, looking out the window at the trees and lakes below.
“You can listen,” Ian said loudly as he adjusted dials on one of the blue metal boxes. He handed the box and headphones to her. “I set it for wolf number three-three-two, from the Stone River Pack.” As if Nika could hear anything in this noisy plane! But she followed his gestures and put on the headphones. Radio signals squeaked and crackled and hissed against her ears.
Ian twirled dials on his box and pulled a clipboard into his lap. He looked back at her and asked, “You take that pill?”
She removed one earphone. “What?” she shouted.
“Did you take the pill?” he yelled back.
Nika nodded. Well, she hadn’t, but it was in her pocket, just in case. She hated how Dramamine made her sleepy.
Ian shouted again over the engine noise, “Number three-three-two’s signal was in the same place yesterday as it was the day before! Maybe the collar came off!” It seemed to worry him. What worried Nika were the baked-metal smells and the occasional tilting. She took a deep breath and hoped they wouldn’t be flying for long.
She looked down at the sea of trees, some of them lime green with new growth. The plane’s shadow skittered across the water below. Small islands bristled with trees. How did Maki even know where they were? Everything below looked the same.
Soon they were flying along the edge of a narrow lake shaped like a poorly drawn letter U. On the near shore the forest was slashed through with fingers of black.
Shouting again and leaning back from the front seat, Maki said, “Fire! Last year!” The fewer words the better in a floatplane.
In a little while Nika heard a steady beeping from her blue box. Ian pointed, and Maki eased the plane in that direction. Ian listened, looked down, then waved his hand in a circle. He folded the map into his lap and wrote on a clipboard. Listening, he gestured for Maki to circle a different spot, not too far from the first. Finally he gave Maki a thumbs down.
The plane leaned one wing sharply and circled lower and lower, flying the length of the lake again before coming back to land. Nika held her breath and counted. She knew what he was doing this time—landing into the wind. This time she had no need for a bag. Maki cut the engines thirty feet from a sand beach and drifted until they ran onto the sand with a loud screech.
“Horseshoe Lake,” Ian said as he climbed out onto the pontoon and then hopped to the sand, beckoning to Nika with a tilt of his head. “Used to be a major logging lake.” He leaned his large pack against a rock before coming back to help her.
Maki shouted, “See you at five!” and pulled the cockpit door closed.
Ian tucked his pants into tall, fancy-looking boots and waded back into the water, slowly maneuvering the plane until it was heading out.
“Gotta stay dry this time of year. This water is still really cold,” he said as he returned to the beach. The yellow plane lumbered down the lake.
“Why doesn’t he stay?” Nika shouted over the noise.
“He also does surveillance for fires. They asked him to do a run today.”
Nika watched the plane lift off. When she looked back at the wall of tightly woven trees and bushes beside the beach, she thought maybe she should have taken that Dramamine and stayed with Maki.
Throwing on his pack, Ian said, “Coming?” He parted some thick branches with his hand.
“Where’s the path?” Nika shouted, rooted to the sand.
“We call this bushwhacking,” Ian answered as the bushes closed behind him.
Well, she didn’t want to be left alone here either. She followed in his wake. As the forest began to wrap around them, she felt a sudden fear. The wind in the tops of the trees whispered and moaned, but where they walked, it felt hot and still. Branches grabbed at her legs and feet. The only sounds were the crunchings and thuds of their footsteps. What if Ian fell and hit his head on a rock? She’d be scuffling for mushrooms and setting snares for bunnies, like people in reality TV shows.
Lots of the trees still had no leaves, just tiny buds and, occasionally, small white flowers. Nika tripped and stubbed her new boots on rocks, tromped through snarls of twigs and fallen logs, grateful that her uncle had made her change, especially the flip-flops. They gradually climbed a small hill where several large trees were snapped off, leaving yellow scars and jagged stumps.
Ian turned his head as he walked and said, “Quite a storm just before you came. Unusual for this time of year. Lots of trees down. It was even worse south and west of here, where a straight-line wind completely flattened some areas.”
They continued up a gradual rise until the trees thinned and the taller pines took charge. The walking became easier with fewer bushes to stumble through. But crisscrossing the forest floor were massive half-rotted tree trunks so big that she had to sit on them to swing her legs over.
Ian took a large antenna out of his pack and unfolded it. It was shaped like three big Ts strapped together. He plugged the wire into one of the blue boxes. Soon a rhythmic beeping came from his box. He didn’t use the earphones this time but turned the antenna this way and that until the beeping got louder. When it did, they hiked in the direction the antenna pointed.
Every few minutes Ian stopped and listened, pointed, then walked in a slightly new direction. Nika was hot. So much for cold in May. She wished now that she hadn’t brought the extra clothes. She took off the anorak and tied it around her waist. She was down to a T-shirt and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. Maybe she could just wait right here. Then she looked at a shadow that seemed to move beyond the hill and decided, maybe not.
At the top of the rise, she took off her hat. Welcome soft breezes spread coolness through the damp roots of her hair. Ian stopped, pulled off his pack, put down the antenna, and looked at Nika. “I guess I haven’t explained much to you about why we do this.”
Nika was glad for a break in the walking. “To study them, right?”
Ian nodded. “Wolves live where we can’t follow them around very well to see what they’re doing. After our hike up here, you can imagine. Anyway, with the radio collars we can track their movements and get an idea of their territories.”
“How do you get the collars on?” Nika asked, thinking that she couldn’t quite imagine anyone, even Ian, marching up to a wild wolf and sticking a collar on him.
“Well.” Ian looked uncomfortable. He took his hat off, ran his hand over his hair, and put his hat back on. “Well, honestly, you’ve hit upon my least favorite part. Maybe someday we’ll invent a better way, but for now we have traps. We pad the trap to avoid injury, but it’s still a trap and has to hold the wolf firmly. After catching them, we inject them with a drug to make them sleep. We blindfold them so their eyes won’t be damaged. Then we put the collar on and take measurements and blood samples.”
“I don’t like the trap part,” Nika said, wondering how long a wolf might have to wait to be released. She looked to see if Ian minded her speaking up.
“I don’t blame you. Most people wouldn’t,” he said, “but it allows us to learn things. We need to better understand how wolves and humans can share wilderness areas.”
Nika was quiet. Wolves were becoming real to her. There was at least one right nearby. She glanced quickly at the shadowed trees.
Ian settled back on
a rock. “Historically, by the midseventies, wolf numbers in all of the lower forty-eight states had dwindled to just a few hundred, all located in Minnesota’s Superior National Forest. The bounty ended in 1965 and they were declared endangered and protected in 1974. In other places in the world, healthy populations still exist, like Canada, Alaska, and Russia.”
He reached over to offer Nika a fruit bar, then continued, “Wolves can live in most of the northern hemisphere as long as they have prey and a chunk of wilderness. And tolerance from humans. Around here their numbers are pretty good since they are protected and studied. Not everyone likes that fact.” For a minute Ian seemed to catch himself. “Sorry. I suppose this sounds kind of like a lecture in school.”
Nika shrugged. She liked listening to Ian better than stumbling through the woods.
“Why do you like them so much?”
“To me they represent true wildness. They’re like we used to be a long time ago living as families, pack members helping to raise the young. Mates can stay together for years. Humans may have learned to hunt large prey as a group from watching wolves. Many people think they have the most complex social behavior of any animal other than primates.”
Funny, she thought. He loved the fact that wolves have families, but he spent his time wandering around the world all by himself.
Ian adjusted his heavy pack. “You really got me going! Well, back to work! Ready?” he called over his shoulder, leading the way.
Except for the beeping, they walked in silence now. She could tell by his face that something was bugging him.
The beeping was suddenly louder. Ian held his hand down, his listening posture signaling her not to speak. She dropped beside him as he hunched down behind a grove of scrubby Christmassy trees. Ahead, taller trees provided shade along a ridge of rock.
“We’re close,” Ian said in a whisper. “The den is through there, in the side of that ridge near an open area. We’re pretty sure she had pups this year.”
Pups? Prickles of sweat and excitement ran up and down Nika’s back and shoulders. She moved a bit closer to Ian.
They waited for a minute or two. Several fat flies dive-bombed Nika’s head. Maybe the wolf was watching them.
“The signal should be moving,” Ian said in the same hoarse whisper. He hunched over and moved toward the shade of the large trees, gesturing with his hand that she should stay. No way was she staying by herself with a wolf nearby! She followed, almost stepping on his heels. Off to her right she saw a glint. She tapped Ian’s back and pointed. He moved over to the object.
It was a beer can, shiny and new. She was puzzled. What was garbage doing in a remote place like this?
Ian put the can in a plastic bag tied to the side of his pack. He seemed angry. Farther along they found candy wrappers, and another can. Ian stuffed it all into the bag, holding up a hand to remind her to be quiet.
Then abruptly he stood up straight and swore. Apparently they weren’t sneaking up on anything anymore. On the ground not far ahead of them was the body of a blackish animal wearing a collar, and it wasn’t moving.
Ian reached the wolf first and stood for a long time staring. Nika crowded behind him as he knelt down.
“It’s number three-three-two,” he said in a quiet voice, “and she’s dead. Her stationary signal. I wondered. This part of my job isn’t very nice.” He took tools from his pack and unbolted a worn collar from the wolf, setting it aside. The collar was heavy leather and canvas, with an attached rectangular box. She guessed the box must be the transmitter that sent out the beeps.
She made herself focus on number 332. The wolf had a rich coat of black with speckles of gray. Her forehead was broad, and her muzzle long. The front feet were bigger than Nika’s hand, too big for the graceful long legs. Her body was slightly flattened in death. Her nipples had bare skin around them. Nika reached out to touch the soft fur on her neck. She was so beautiful. She was so big. Nika felt both shocked and confused. If Ian was in charge of studying wolves, why couldn’t he prevent this?
“I have to examine her, Nika. I’m pretty sure she was shot, but there’s more I need to know. Number three-three-two has been in my study nine years, longer than any other wolf,” Ian said sadly, still looking at the motionless body. He placed the pack between his knees and started to unload equipment. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have brought you along.” He gave her an apologetic look, then took a leather case from his pack and slammed it on the ground. He stood up and turned around, facing away from her.
Nika figured he was telling her to leave him alone to do his job.
“I’ll just sit on that rock over there for a while, okay?” she said. She didn’t know what to say to him about the wolf.
“Sure. Fine.” Then he added as she walked away, “At least we know for sure she had pups this year.”
Nika spun in her tracks, came back, and squatted down. “Where are they?” she asked. If there were pups, they had to do something.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They probably weren’t very old. Could be someone killed number three-three-two just to steal them.”
“Is that legal?” Outrage filled her voice. She looked off into the woods. Maybe the wolf killer was still out there.
“Actually, no. It’s pretty hard to prove, though.”
Ian sat back on his heels for a minute. “I really shouldn’t have brought you along,” he repeated. “I’m really sorry. I’m used to this, but—”
“What about the pups?” she asked again, her eyes searching the forest.
“Most likely they’re gone, or dead.”
Nika walked away from the dead wolf and Ian. She folded down on the moss of the forest floor and leaned against a huge fallen pine, feeling the comfort of its bulk. She would just hang out within hearing distance and wait.
Nika tried to keep her mind off what Ian was doing. But finally an irrational panic that he might leave caused her to leap to her feet and go to the spot where the wolf had been killed. When she came up behind Ian’s bent back, she saw a bloody mess where the beautiful wolf had been. One hand went up to her mouth, and she froze, a grunt of revulsion jammed in her throat.
The wolf was cut open from the chest down to her abdomen, and Ian was examining the exposed area. Dark red blood covered his gloved hands. The bottles beside him were taped and marked, filled with pieces of the wolf. “All of her organs were healthy,” he said.
There was no warning this time, and no bag. She threw up, then threw up again, missing Ian’s boots by only a few inches.
Ian jumped to his feet, stripped off his bloody gloves, and took her by the shoulders, guiding her to a large rock where he sat her down. He went back to his pack and came back with a can of Pepsi and popped the top.
“Not very cold, no room for ice,” he said, holding it out. “A little gross, huh? Obviously, I didn’t expect this.”
Duh? “Well yeah, but I’ve seen stuff before,” Nika said in a dull voice, looking away, then sneaking a look back again. Yeah, she’d seen a dead squirrel. And a cut-up frog once. She swallowed hard, then swallowed again, and took a drink of lukewarm Pepsi.
She squeezed out the words “What did you find?”
“Two bullets. I’ll send them to the lab . . . And now I’m checking to see what she’s been eating. I took tissue samples to look for parasites or diseases. Looks like she was facing the shooter,” he said. “The ground around her was undisturbed, which means to me that the shooter never touched the body. Just shot her and left.”
When he finished the autopsy and cleaned up, he put his tools into the leather case and packed the bottles, stuffing the radio collar into a side pocket. His movements were quick, as though he wanted to get away from this place, something Nika could really understand.
“You’re going to bury her, aren’t you?” Nika asked. She had begun to shiver.
“What?” he said, then seemed to realize she was serious. “Well. That’s a nice idea, but the ground here is mostly rock. It
would take a bulldozer to bury her deep enough to keep other animals from digging her up. Scavengers will find her body, and she will return to the earth naturally. Stay here,” he said. “I’m going to check something.” He walked away in the direction of the clearing.
A hot flush of anger caused Nika to back up, almost tripping. Was he the kind of person to leave what had once been a beautiful animal to rot on the ground? She scraped up armloads of moss and leaves, making several trips to cover as much of the body as she could. At least she’d tried to do something.
Then she kicked at ferns and bushes as she blindly marched back in the general direction they’d come, carrying her Pepsi, her stomach still unsettled. Out of sight of the dead wolf, she stopped and sat down to wait.
But when Ian didn’t come, Nika began to feel anxious. She didn’t know how long he had been gone. It suddenly felt like a long time. She walked back to the dead wolf’s body, stood, and shouted, “Hey, Ian!”
Birds fluttered in dry leaves on the ground. She heard a scraping sound and jumped.
“Ian!” she called, panic rising in her voice.
Then she saw a movement across the clearing. It was Ian, and he was on his knees.
As she moved nearer, he stood up. His face was strangely lit. His clothes were smudged with reddish dirt and bloodstains.
Behind him she could see a tunnel, possibly the wolf’s den. Rocks framed the dark entrance. She glanced quickly around for signs of carnage. Nothing.
She looked at Ian again, and his shirt was bulgy.
For a moment his face clouded. “Whoever that stupid jackass was, maybe he left fingerprints on the cans.”
The bulge moved.
“Now for the good news. The idiot missed the back corner of the den.” He pulled something from his shirt. For a few moments with background music of birdsong and wind, Nika forgot to breathe.
Summer of the Wolves Page 4
